


Streaking

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Masturbation, Public Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4976824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>that-rotter asked:"I was taking a shower in the hall bathroom and someone stole my towel so now I have to make a break for it down the hall to my room as naked as the day I was born and I didn’t see you when I rounded the corner until I slammed right into you" AU klaaaaaaiiiiine! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine tries hard to adapt to the college life.

More precisely, to the dorms life.

Sure, Dalton was a good practice for it, but there is something different, more … carefree, about the college dorm life.

Luckily, Blaine has found a system that helps with his adaptation--and having an upperclassman as a roommate definitely helps too.

He listened to Elliott’s advice, going to the cafeteria on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and keeping apples in his room, and he showers at different times than the rest of his floor.

Not early in the morning, not late at night: Blaine showers at 1.45pm, when nobody else is here and when he can take his time.

He doesn’t even need to take a change of clothes with him, his towel enough to cover him and let him go back to his room without flashing anybody because a, it covers him completely, and b, there isn’t anybody else.

Usually, that is.

Today, there is someone else in a shower nearby, singing incredibly lewd songs too--Blaine is all for using the shower’s acoustics to sing and rehearse, but “Blow My Whistle”, really?--but Blaine tries to tune it out, applying the anti-frizz mask his brother send him.

Wishful thinking, he knows, but it smells good, and he amuses himself while it sits with little doodles on the stall’s walls.

Blaine rinses himself thoroughly, glad to hear that he’s alone now, but when he reaches for his towel on the hook outside of his stall, Blaine freezes.

Because he’s not finding anything.

Holding up the curtain, Blaine peeks out and sure enough, the hook glints in the sunlight and there is no other towel anywhere.

Blaine is going to hunt down the thief, the depraved thief who dared touch his fluffy towel, for fuck’s sake, his towel, and he’s going to smack him down and get his revenge--

But first, Blaine needs to go back to his room.

Butt naked.

In his birthday suit.

Correction : in his wet birthday suit.

“Fuck,” he says between gritted teeth, brushing his hands down his arms and chest to get rid of the droplets.

What can he do now?

Blaine glances at the shower curtain--would he become a hooligan to protect his dignity, and just tear it off the bar?

No, he couldn’t possibly.

Biting his lower lip, Blaine puts his finger through his hair and tightens his hold on the curtain like a toga.

He could--

Oh God, what has become of his life.

He could make a dash for it; his room is not that far from the bathroom, after all, and he’s pretty fast, and as previously believed, the floor is usually pretty empty.

Hm.

Well, that would get streaking off of his bucket list.

Alright, that’s settled.

Three.

What am I doing?

Two.

Oh Lord, what the Warblers would think?!

One.

Ghost of Grandma Sara, please look away.

Go!

Blaine is off, cupping his balls and cock, running like a madman as fast as he can and looking down to make sure he doesn’t go slipping on something.

Which is why he completely misses another student turning the corner, opening wide eyes before the inevitable collision.

\---

Kurt is never around the Disco building this time of day.

Never but for today, and all because of Elliott.

His fellow One Three Hill member asked him to pick up a shirt in his room to change after a rehearsal that apparently was more demanding than Elliott expected, “but don’t worry, my roommate is usually around this time of day, he’ll let you in. I can’t believe I haven’t introduced the two of you yet.”

Except that the roommate isn’t here, and Kurt had to deal with a sleazy looking Freshman who walked by with mismatching towels and leered at him before making a comment about Kurt’s tight ass.

Kurt isn’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult.

Truth be told, he doesn’t really care, because that guy really isn’t deserving of Kurt’s attention.

He’s texting Elliott about his inability to access their room when he hears it, a subdued galloping sound, like someone is running in the hallway.

Kurt barely has the time to look up, see what is coming his way--that’s a lot of wet, tan skin, wow--before being hit by said wet, tan skin, the two of them toppling to the floor.

Kurt’s arms wrap around the nudist’s upper body as they hit the floor without him realizing what he’s doing and he absorbs the shock the best he can, thankful for the padding he added to the shoulders of his [jacket](http://www.youknowyoulovefashion.com/storage/glee/0409/0409Kurt1.jpg).

“Ow,” Kurt says nonetheless, more out of reflex than actual pain.

His fingers are sliding across the back of his “attacker”, and part of his brain is registering how smooth and soft and muscled it is.

“Are you okay?”

Oh, the voice is smooth too, what about that.

“More in shock than hurt,” Kurt says, slowly blinking his eyes open, his eyes meeting melted caramel.

Wow, hello there.

The man scrambles to get off of Kurt and though he doesn’t particularly like to have his clothes soaked wet, Kurt quite suddenly misses the weight on top of him.

Kurt can’t really help but observe the way the man straightens up, hastily covering himself to get a semblant of modesty.

Not fast enough though, and Kurt is not proud of saving that particular image to the back of his mind.

“I would like to point out that it’s not my usual attire,” the man says, a blush spreading down his neck and his chest.

“I don’t mind,” Kurt says before he can stop himself, standing up to hide his embarrassment. “I mean, I’m not judging.”

The man drops his chin to his chest with a sigh, and yes, Kurt is quickly becoming a big fan of the way his chest and stomach’s muscles are highlighted by the simple act of breathing.

And then he looks up, a tentative smile on his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I have accumulated enough embarrassment to last me for the year,” he says as strongly as he can. “It has been a pleasure meeting you, …?”

“Kurt.”

“Blaine,” the man replies. “Sorry if I don’t shake your hand.”

Kurt nods before frowning. “Wait a minute--Blaine? As in, Blaine Anderson?”

Another layer of flush covers Blaine’s body. “Y-yes?”

“I was looking for you,” Kurt says and Blaine raises one eyebrow.

“Well, you got to look at more of me than you expected.”

“That’s for sure.”

Blaine’s lips lift in a crooked smile. “Can I go and put on some clothes or do you need to tell me whatever it is you were looking me for this very second?”

It’s Kurt’s turn to blush. “Oh fuck I’m such an idiot, please, go, sure!” he babbles, moving to the side to let Blaine walk by.

Blaine squares his shoulders and holds his head high as he passes Kurt by, holding two fingers up with his free hand. “Two minutes, and I’m all yours.”

Kurt nods, making a point of looking away when Blaine walks away, but he does look to see Blaine’s butt before he closes the door.

“Looking forward to it,” he says to himself with a smile.

He’ll have to thank Elliott for sending him on this particular errand.

(The next time Kurt ends up with a handful of wet Blaine, it’s his own fault, and it’s because he wanted to surprise his boyfriend for their first anniversary--what a better way to do so than reenact the way they met)


	2. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt has a *very* good memory

“See, I don’t make an habit of running naked in the halls,” Blaine says, pulling on his shirt, and Kurt misses the tan skin he got hit with--literally.

But Blaine’s skin was still wet when he dressed up, so the cotton is sticking to him in some places, and in a way, that’s even more delicious than Blaine’s naked skin.

In a way.

“But someone stole my towel,” Blaine continues, shaking his head and sending droplets flying, the wet hair slowly but surely reaching a curly state in front of Kurt’s eyes.

“Stole your towel?” Kurt repeats, trying to focus on the situation at hand as he turns to Elliott’s side of the room to look for the damn shirt. “And what does it look like?”

He has a hunch that he might know the culprit.

“It’s a [bright](http://designsoda.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/HM-Moroccan-towels.jpg), sunny yellow,” Blaine says, fingers fluttering in the air as he describes it, “with a white pattern of curves in the main part and chevron on the edges?”

Bingo.

Sleazy and Uncoordinated Freshman.

Kurt grinds his teeth and composes a calm face when he turns to face Blaine once again.

“Got it,” he says, lifting the shirt in his hand.

“Well,” Blaine says with a nervous smile, “it was a pleasure to meet you--though I would have preferred a more normal way …”

“Oh the pleasure was all mine,” Kurt replies, briefly closing his eyes when Blaine’s widen. “I mean, I would have preferred to start with a coffee or a meal chaperoned by our common friend too, but as it is, I can’t say that I mind.”

Blaine looks torn between preening at the veiled compliment and wanting to bury himself somewhere out of sheer embarrassment.

“I’ll … I’ll see you around?” he asks, tentative smile back on his face and Kurt nods, his lips stretching into a beaming smile.

“Definitely.”

Blaine looks up at him from under his eyelashes, flirty and shy all together, and where has he been hiding all semester?!

“Weren’t you in a hurry?” Blaine asks, his smile taking a teasing quality that pushes all of Kurt’s buttons.

“Oh! Yeah, right,” Kurt replies, careful not to squish Elliott’s shirt on his way out. “See you around, Blaine.”

“Have a nice day, Kurt.”

The moment Kurt is out, his smile melts away, and he stalks towards the room he saw the Sleady Freshman enter, knocking on the door impatiently.

The Freshman opens the door, his green eyes raking over Kurt’s body and a smirk on his face.

“Changed your mind after all?” he asks, and Kurt resists the need to roll his eyes at that guy’s behavior.

Eurgh.

“No, not really, no,” Kurt replies before opening his hand. “Give me the towel you stole.”

The guy’s eyes widen, and his smirk melts away. “What towel?”

Kurt raises one eyebrow at the man’s audacity. “We both know that you stole of your neighbors’ towel earlier--a bright yellow one, that truly didn’t match that lavender thing you tried to seduce me with like some cheap Salome.”

The smirk turns into a twist of the mouth, and the guy huffs and puffs. As Kurt doesn’t budge, wiggling his fingers, he finally groans and reaches in the room and throws the towel in Kurt’s face. “There you go,” he says, before smirking once again. “Think of me when you use it.”

The door is slammed in Kurt’s face, and he does roll his eyes this time around.

Some people, honestly.

Kurt takes the towel and, he knows that the logical thing to do would be to bring it back to Blaine.

But somehow, he bypasses Blaine’s room entirely and returns to his own dorm, washing the towel with the rest of his laundry.

Back to his room, to his bed, Kurt feels a hot flash of arousal go through him at the thought of giving Blaine something that will smell like him, and with this wave comes an onslaught of images from earlier that day.

Of Blaine’s skin under his fingertips.

Of Blaine’s body on top of his own.

Of the way he smelled, clean and woodsy and perfect, and Kurt’s hand is cupping his hardening cock before the thought is fully fledged in his mind.

Kurt closes his eyes as he starts stroking himself, and the scene from the Disco hallway morphs into something hotter, more intimate.

Blaine is still naked and wet and on top of Kurt, but he’s not trying to stand up. No, this time around, the shorter man is wiggling on top of Kurt to make him hard.

Kurt is still dressed in this fantasy, but he can still feel how warm Blaine was, the way his strong legs felt bracketing his, and it’s not too far a stretch to picture him rolling those sinful hips against Kurt’s erection, his own cock--Kurt did get an eyeful of it, and it was so very … pretty--bouncing against his stomach.

Kurt pumps his cock faster as he pictures it, and it’s all so easy to do so, to use the memory of Blaine trying to stand up and change it into Blaine trying to make them come together.

A part of his mind is tersely scolding him as he reaches his orgasm, for using a man he barely met for his own pleasure--and in such a vulnerable position, too, that little corner is ashamed of him--but the rest is too busy being blown into a very satisfying peak of pleasure to really listen.

When he absentmindedly wipes the cum off of his fingers on a very fluffy fabric, that little voice gets louder and he snaps his eyes open, only to find bright yellow under his hand.

Kurt groans, throwing his arm over his eyes as he clutches the towel.

“I’m a disgusting being,” he mumbles, before sighing.

The only way he can forgive himself is a two parts plan, involving rewashing the towel and inviting Blaine on a date.

Yes, good plan.


End file.
